


Where Were You?

by a_nonny_moose



Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Because we've been trapped in the Barrel since don't remember, because Mark is gone, because we're drowning. (And it's @caustic-synishade's fault)





	Where Were You?

Everything is dark.

We don’t know how long it’s been. All we know is that it’s cold, and the shadows move and whisper in here. 

What is ‘in here’? It used to be the van, sunlit, Mark in the driver’s seat with a laugh and a smile. 

Not anymore.

What is  _in here_? We know we’re not alone, and the idea is somehow more terrifying than having been abandoned. 

The TV flickers, a drone of static and white noise that rises and falls like a whisper. We’ve given up trying to turn it off, given up trying to sleep. We glance into it every so often, the terrified flicker of a deer in headlights. 

Prey.

The inside of the van is cold where it’s usually warm, the sun filtering through the windows. The wood paneling feels like ice to our fingers, shaking and nearly gone numb. We’re at the bottom of the barrel, now, and the water’s slowly rising. 

We wonder where Mark is, a longing look at the driver’s seat. There have been good memories in the van, that’s for sure-- tainted at every turn by a TV, lines of static, a cold whisper. We never dared to bring it up. We were just tired, or paranoid. Mark was trying his best, as he always did.

Trying.

Tried.

Mark is gone, and the water is swirling above our head. It’s too dark to see anything, even the light of the television fading to gray. The noise continues, hissing words that we think we can recognize in the background. A voice that sounds almost familiar. 

There’s something in here with us.

It’s prowling, a predator circling around the walls. We shake our head, eyes wide, looking for something, anything. We can feel it breathing on our neck. We can hear it whisper in our ear. 

“Go back to sleep,” it says, almost a caress. “You won’t remember any of this in the morning.” 

And we struggle to close our eyes, even the act of letting go a momentous effort.

“Go to sleep,” and it’s more like a shriek, wind whistling through a tunnel. 

We close our eyes, and the inside of our eyelids is almost more welcome than the void inside the van. Silence is coming. Something is coming.

The static, the whispers stop, and we feel ourselves falling. 

A clang, and blinding light, and warm arms pulling us up. 

“What were you doing in there? Oh, god, are you okay?”

It takes a moment for the dizziness to clear, and another moment to register Mark holding us close to his chest, the sun behind his head like a halo. 

“You’re so cold,” he almost scolds, steadying us on our feet. We sway, and blink, and look around.

The sun is out, the sky is blue, and we’re outside.

Mark fusses over the van, climbing inside before we can stop him. “You left the refrigerator open, silly,” he calls, and there’s the sound of him shutting the door, pushing buttons on the TV.

We’re looking at the sky, taking it in for what feels like the first time. We’re happy, relieved, half-annoyed. Where was Mark? How long had it been? Whatever, at least he’s here. At least we’re awake. 

Awake? We stop for a moment, taking in the trees. Why are we so fascinated by trees? Why were we asleep?

We don’t remember.

Mark calls for us, an echo to his voice, and we turn.

No, not Mark. 

Someone else, outlined in red and blue and a sneer on their face. 

Everything goes dark.


End file.
